Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
LIAM
With my crutches tucked under my arms, I made my way down the hall, the smell of bacon greeting me. Everything in me prayed that Simon hadn’t burnt it, or even worse, started a grease fire.
He wasn’t the best at cooking, but it meant everything to me that he’d been so adamant about taking over, even if just for a little while.
It hadn’t taken me long to adjust to my inability to walk, as I’d broken my leg during my time in the ranks, but the circumstances behind it continued to haunt me. Stefan’s touches tormented my mind and visited my nightmares, making it nearly impossible for me to get a full night's rest.
I was exhausted beyond words, emotionally and physically. It had been over two weeks since I woke up in that hospital, and I was afraid that, even as time continued to pass, my trauma would never heal.
Rounding the corner, a soft smile crossed my lips as Simon’s bare back greeted me.
Bill facing me in the manner he preferred, his light blue baseball cap combed back his slightly grown hair.
He sang softly, and I remained motionless, simply watching him as he navigated the chaos he’d left behind in the midst of his cooking.
Using tongs, he transferred the bacon onto a paper towel, giving the eggs a final stir before lifting the pan. Turning around, he jumped, startled, and the cookware shook in his grip.
Slapping it onto the counter, he immediately placed his hand on his hip.
His tattoo jostled with the movement, intricate inked lines spreading down his right arm to form archaic ruins.
A clock rested over his right pectoral muscle, and it expanded like tree roots down to his bicep.
The pattern mirrored a geometric world, and he’d gotten it after his near-death experience.
It was a symbol of how time was always passing, each segment fragmenting from the center, but they all funneled from one singular moment.
Each detail was carved into his skin beautifully as Simon pointed the tongs at me. “What are you doing? Go sit down. I’ll bring it to you.”
“I’m sick of sitting,” I grumbled, my throat still adjusting, the bruising still present. Moving toward him, each click of metal echoed through the space. “My ass hurts, and not in a fun way.”
“Okay, then, stand against the counter. I don’t want you slipping.” Moving through the kitchen to grab dishes, he put the food onto them before sliding a plate to me. “Here. I think I didn’t burn the bacon this time.”
Propped up against the counter as he demanded, I lifted a brow. “You don’t think?”
He shrugged. “Just… don’t look at the underside. It’s kind of black, but not quite. But the eggs I did fine!”
Laughing, I shook my head, taking a bite from the first piece I pulled from my plate. He watched me as I chewed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve actually learned. I’m impressed.”
Grinning, he stabbed a piece of egg. “I watched videos, darling. It was actually helpful, because I learned you’re not supposed to turn up the burner all the way.”
“You realize where else you could learn these things?”
Chewing, his brow rose. “Where?”
“Your best friend.”
“Oh… Well, we’re not… We haven’t really talked since arriving back.”
Concern swept through me. “Wait, what?”
“Oren… Oren lied to me, to us, about everything.” Setting his utensil down, he gripped the marble.
The room spun, my palm meeting the frigid countertop beside him as I struggled to keep myself upright. “W-What… What do you mean?”
“Oren… knew Stefan. Apparently—”
Before he could continue, I quickly pivoted, angling myself over the sink as I heaved.
Wretching up the remnants of the minimal food I’d eaten, a shuddering breath followed as a tremor ripped through me.
Another roll of my shoulders and bile was the only thing that came up, a rasped sob tumbling from me.
“Hey… Hey, sunshine.” Simon rubbed my back, shifting upward to keep my hair from falling against my face. “I’ve got you.”
“He… knew Stefan…” I whispered, my body instinctively recoiling again, even though nothing came out.
“Yeah. Stefan… Stefan has his sister.”
Sister?
“He has… How?”
“I don’t know all the details, but Stefan blackmailed him to remain quiet and threatened to hurt her if he didn’t. I’m assuming she’s a half-sister, knowing his revolting father.”
Dropping my head against my arm, I swallowed my next bout of nausea. “Did… Did Thorne…?”
I needed him to say no. I couldn’t stomach the idea of Thorne knowing Oren’s secrecy and not informing us, not informing me, when I’d confided in him. He’d promised he would give me any information he found on Stefan, and if he kept that… If he kept that from me…
“No. No, he had no clue. He and Oren aren’t on the best of terms. He… He took off his ring, Liam.”
Thorne had… ended things? But their relationship had been such a guiding force for Simon and me, and if they weren’t together anymore, then what did that mean… What did that mean for us?
“O-Oh…” I mumbled, slowly pushing myself away from the sink.
“I haven’t really talked to him… I… kind of choked him when I found out.”
“So we basically… it sounds like we don’t have friends anymore.”
Simon bit his lip. “I don’t know, Liam. Thorne needs time, and so does Oren. And Matt… Matt’s been fucking that Mafia boss. Well, I think so. He was focused on him the entire mission.”
“The Mafia boss?” My brain hurt.
“Yeah. His name is Levander Vescari, and he runs the entire Italian Mafia over here.” He scratched the back of his head before clearing his throat, “I’ve kind of kept you…
away from everyone else. I figured you wouldn’t want visitors, but he does want to meet you.
We couldn’t have rescued you without his help. ”
“I’d like to thank him.”
“I’m sure. He’s a pretty cool guy, and we were all going to do…” Simon cleared his throat. “Well, that’s in the past. Right now, you need time to heal and rest.”
“All going to do what?” I asked, his refusal to share drawing my attention.
“Art. Lev… Lev wanted Oren and me to come over for painting.”
Resting my hands against the marble, I inhaled deeply. “Yeah? And how are you going to do that without, you know, apologizing for trying to kill him?”
“Maybe I can draw him an apology picture? Won’t be like his, since I don’t have that talent, but it counts as a sorry, right?”
“Or, crazy concept, you could use your mouth and words without a piece of paper.”
“Hmm, yeah, I guess so. You think… think he’ll forgive me? I mean, I’m still pissed at him. I understand why he did what he did, but we could’ve found you faster if he’d confessed.”
I wanted to be angry, vengeful even that Oren had hesitated in speaking up, but I couldn’t find it in myself.
If our roles were reversed, and it’d been about protecting Simon, I would’ve done the same, especially knowing how powerful Stefan was.
He had unspeakable connections overseas, intertwined alliances with the largest crime lords known to man, and I was sure ties to someone far more significant.
Stefan ?or?evi? was influential in the black market, but with his continued errors, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was anyone he reported to. Perhaps someone far darker and more demented than the man who had done everything he could to ruin my life.
“Do you know if Thorne has found any information on connections that we should be wary about? Like… beyond Stefan?”
Scratching his stubble, he fiddled with his hat. “Not that I know of. I mean, we can always call if you want, but I really think you should sit on the couch—”
“I can sit on the couch at their house.”
He blinked, tugging on his cap. “You… Right now?”
“Yes,” I pulled my crutches from where I’d rested them, “right now.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want, we’ll go right now. As far as the food… Container or trash?”
“Container.” Smiling, I brushed my fingers across his chest. “It’s the best you’ve made so far.”
Beaming, he leaned forward to kiss my cheek, his cardamom and pepper scent wafting off the remnants of my nausea. “Next, I’m going to try a cake! Triple layer, extra frosting.”
With an exasperated sigh, I dipped my chin. “Okay. We'll see how that goes. Maybe make up with Oren before attempting that. He loves to bake, and I’m sure he would be happy to entertain your idea.”
“Yeah… His cakes are really fluffy. You think he shoves his personality into it? Or maybe it’s his ass, I don’t know.”
Tucking my crutches back under my arms, I gave him a subtle shrug. “Depends which type of cake you’re speaking about, I suppose.”
Pushing himself away from the counter, he gestured to the front door. “Meet you in the car?”
“I’m unsure how well I’ll be able to get inside it, but yeah, sure.”
“Oh, right, knee. Then, wait right here, and I’ll be done in a second.”
“Done? With what?”
“Cleaning and putting my yummy food away.”
I rolled my eyes, crutches clicking against the tile as I headed toward the living room—the space we had built a blanket fort in and been claiming as our resting place since we got home. “How about I sit while you do that? Standing in the foyer doesn’t sound super… appealing. My armpits hurt.”
“Sure! I put your book in our fort if you want it while I finish up!”
Offering him a soft smile, I nodded before slipping onto the couch and slowly resting my crutches on the ground in front of me.
One thing was certain: I wouldn’t have made it the past couple of days without Simon.
But what about the months to come? I would be needy until my knee healed, and even after, I would be stuck in physical therapy for… who knew how long.
I didn’t want to be a burden. I never had. And it felt wrong to ask him to cater to me when he already struggled so much with his disability. Where I still had a leg, he didn’t, and that was the biggest thing that was preventing me from working through my trauma.
Perhaps Stefan would haunt me for the rest of my life.